


Demo

by snarechan



Series: Playing House [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Enemy Lovers, Identity Reveal, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:50:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The path to starting from scratch begins with an explosion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demo

**Author's Note:**

> I hate, hate, _hate_ writing action scenes. Especially ones with fighting and guns, but I'll never improve if I don't try, right? Of the three prequels to [House of Lies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5603380) (which I encourage everyone to read before this story if you haven't already!), this one took the longest to piece together because I knew where I wanted it to go, but how to get it there turned out to be a practice in patience. I still think this story is rough compared to the rest. I'm ready to let it go, however, so please let me know what you think!
> 
> Keppiehed has continued to lend their wisdom and assistance in keeping this series in tip-top shape, so my kudos and thanks to them! Acknowledgement also goes to [resident-longwinded-anon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/resident_longwinded_anon) over on Tumblr for posting [this challenge](http://resident-longwinded-anon.tumblr.com/post/99087361601/its-fairly-self-explanatory-i-think-i-was). If a writer is struggling like I was to find inspiration, this might be the trick for you, too!

A cloudless sky was overhead. Without the glare of skyscrapers, the moon and stars shone bright. _How poetic_ , Ivan thought in approval, _tonight will be a good night to finish this_. "This" referred to the twenty-four months in which the engines of his carrier boats had been stuffed with sawdust, potential clients had been spooked off or poached, and Ivan's selection of contraband guns had been stolen. He could not afford to let his rival's antics continue, and Ivan readied an offensive.

Pinning down the rival gang had been a lengthy process of elimination. Trains weren't common in the area, and Ivan locked in the ports. Air transport was the method left to consider by sheer amount of weapons output. Just a select number of airports were equipped to support the force needed to transfer such a volume of undetected product.

Fighting back, Ivan dismantled the potential facilities one-by-one until none were left save a private hanger on the outskirts of the city limits. A single road led to the craggy, rusted facility – its shoddy exterior was doubtless just for show. Five cars were stationed in the dirt parking lot when Ivan and his men arrived on foot. Assuming the magnitude of the arms deal wasn't exaggerated, two if not three of those vehicles must belong to the interested party, leaving one vehicle as _his_.

Ivan's anticipation at meeting the individual who'd challenged the Bratva – challenged _him_ – couldn't be denied. Beneath the cold fury and provocation was a smidgen of respect. No one else had lasted so long or had come so close to besting him. Were Ivan a more gracious contender he might admit to feeling admiration, but business was business.

To Ivan's right, Toris adjusted his gun and said, "How are we going about this? I only see the two entrances," and nodded toward the building. Earlier he was the sole subordinate against the confrontation, or at least the only one willing to argue, and there remained a hesitation to his question. The rest of Ivan's associates hung back, awaiting direction.

Humming, Ivan stared at the hanger. Rather invitingly, all the lights were on. He said, "The service entrance should suffice. After all, are we not interested in conducting business with the proprietor?" Ivan walked right up to the front and pushed open the double-wide doors.

The entry led straight into the hanger. Inside was pristine and modernized, confirming his suspicions that the exterior was meant to deceive. Stepping deeper, Ivan took in the numerous shipping containers and crates stacked throughout. His footsteps, accompanied by those of his entourage, echoed off the obstacles and polished cement floors.

Two carrier planes seemed half-loaded, and a black helicopter resided in the center of the room. A table was in front and a small variety of military-grade firearms were laid out across the surface. Without getting his hands on them Ivan couldn't be certain, but he suspected a few were a sampling taken from his shipments.

The two men stationed at the display were more demanding of Ivan's attention. The shorter of the pair was distinguishable by the immaculate, white suit and authentic, traditional sword sheathed at his hip. He recognized Kiku Honda, this son of a Yakuza boss; during their past dealings Ivan was familiar with how sharp he honed his blade. They weren't on agreeable terms. That he was here, and it wasn't just a regular buyer in his stead, would normally be enough to set Ivan on edge.

The presence of the other man troubled Ivan more.

Taking in the view from behind, he started with the man's burnished shoes and moved next to the trousers, which were a rich blue and not so dark as to be navy. Tailored to fit his legs, the fabric curved to rest against the small of his back. His dress shirt was tucked in and the sleeves rolled up to reveal toned arms. A vest made of refined, black silk on one side met with blue-on-blue stripes. _Where is the matching jacket_ , he mused, _because_ —

_Ivan is on his way into the house when he collides with Alfred. They each stumble a step inside the doorway, equally harried, as Ivan is in a rush home to grab some personal affects and Alfred in a hurry to leave. Prior to bowling him over, Alfred was in the act of sliding on his coat and had one arm in the sleeve._

_"Oh! My apologies, I am_ — _" Ivan begins, in tandem to Alfred saying, "Sorry, I meant to call you_ — _" Both men laugh. Ivan takes Alfred by the shoulders and shifts him to the side so he may pass. "Do continue, but please forgive me. I cannot stay long."_

_The relief encompassing Alfred's entire body is curious, but Ivan's mind is intent on other matters. Fixing his jacket, he says, "Me, too. I was going to let you know over the phone, but this works better than a voice message. I just wanted to tell you I'll be late tonight. Got some big plans with a friend from out of town that I can't miss. You understand, right?"_

_"Yes, yes. I will also be gone for the majority of the evening. A difficult trading partner has shown up, the…ah…"_

_"You mean the little upstart you're always going on about?" Alfred asked._

_"Mm, the very same. Negotiations on terms are imminent, and I trust no one else to carry through with the agreement. Should you return before me, do not wait up." Ivan gathers some tools from the foyer table, although the lethal variety cannot be retrieved from the garage until Alfred leaves._

_Alfred grabs Ivan by the elbow and they slow to the same pace. He allows himself to be guided until they are eye-to-eye. His Alfred always seems to find a means to_ make _time for them. "Heh, well all right, Tiger. I know you'll do fine, but just in case, good_ —

"—of you to join us," Alfred said.

 _Of course_ it was Alfred. The curve of his jaw and the small scar at the nape of his neck were all intimate, distinguishable features to Ivan. What struck him as new was the way he pieced together the AK-74M with an expert idleness. Lifting the assembled weapon, Alfred sighted down the length of it to inspect his handiwork. "I was just telling my buddy here—you know Kiku, right? Sure you do—on how it might be worthwhile for a face-to-face between me and you."

That voice, saying those things, made Ivan's hands gradually, minutely, _slowly_ tighten into fists. The gun in his hand creaked. Toris snapped his head to observe Ivan's reaction, and any other time he would have been disappointed. Not focusing on a threat to the Bratva was an amateur mistake he'd culled from his men long ago, least of all Toris, but he couldn't reprimand the man now. More pressing issues attracted his notice.

"He might not seem like it, but Kiku prefers to keep to himself like I do. So I thought to myself: hey, if you're going to throw a shindig why not let the guy invite some of his pals over to make him feel comfortable?"

Assailants on the catwalks made themselves known, filing in through the roof access doors. They circled the perimeter and surrounded Ivan's group. The clacking of guns arming echoed everywhere. Ivan's concentration didn't waver; an almost-calm washed over him, like a frost ebbing and latching onto whatever it touched. He was left feeling frozen in place.

"Besides which, I assured him none of you were leaving alive. Nothing personal, I've just got a reputation to uphold." And Alfred turned in place, reminding Ivan of another time, of another first meeting. His grin was exactly like then, too, all dimples and wide brimmed. A part of Ivan might have cracked a little bit, as if a winter lake had given way underfoot.

That smirk wavered, then took a down turn as two or three different emotions flashed across Alfred's face at spotting Ivan there. The expression that settled afterwards was angry and sadistic. And something deep inside of Ivan wanted to answer in kind.

Not so long ago, before he met Alfred, Ivan was not always lenient. Or tolerant. Or any number of qualities that'd overtaken him without his notice because Alfred wasn't supposed to be a part of this dark underworld. As their relationship grew, his priorities changed and it'd seemed worth the return. Ivan never wanted the person he was to be near Alfred. He tried to be better, even if it meant going _soft._

What an incredible, weak-willed idiot he was.

"By your silence," Kiku spoke, his tone mild but carrying throughout the vicinity, "are we to assume you stand down?" His hand went to the hilt of his katana, indication of Kiku's true reading of the situation.

"I'd sooner kneel to pigs," Ivan said, confirming his suspicions. Despite speaking in Russian, Kiku inferred his meaning well enough because he motioned their men to open fire. Alfred, similarly concluding the implications of Ivan's statement, dumped his first magazine.

The rapid spray of bullets chewed holes in the concrete as Ivan and his followers dove for cover. A twist and then a hard pull had Ivan gritting his teeth; in his haste to seek protection he'd stumbled and overextended his knee. Alongside him, Toris was shielded by the shipping container. His second flinched as shrapnel and bullets whizzed overhead.

Despite the widespread presence of carrier boxes, wood and steel weren't intended to withstand such a barrage. A handful of opponents were on the ground level, Alfred amongst them, but Ivan hadn't accounted for so many threats above. His arrogance cost him as the disadvantages to confronting the enemy on their home turf kept mounting.

Toris said, "I can't believe it, that was—"

"My directive has not changed," Ivan told him, prepping his gun and ignoring the strain in his right joint. Adrenalin made it easy to do. "I ordered for the boss to be left to me. He is _mine_ to deal with, and mine alone."

"But it's Jones."

Ivan didn't respond. Peeking his head around the corner of where they were pinned, he noted Alfred and Kiku hadn't left their starting positions. The Yakuza preferred close quarters combat, as evidenced by the trail of beatings left wherever the group went, not to mention the strewn bodies at Kiku's feet.

Alfred hadn't let up on the trigger. A pile of cartridges gathered at his feet. Alfred swiveled his head as soon as he spotted Ivan and concentrated his fire. To avoid the stream of lead, he withdrew into hiding. Toris gaped at the sparks and metal chipping away at metal. "I thought you said he didn't know how to use a gun?"

"No, I told you he would not _accept_ my gift of a handgun," Ivan clarified. Hindsight made him bitter. The refusal was likely attributed to the fact that Alfred was too busy hoarding Ivan's best sellers. Why would he require a .9mm for protection when he possessed a whole arsenal of auto and semi-auto weapons?

Sirens. Fifteen minutes into the fight and the wail of law enforcement vehicles were close enough that Ivan identified the sounds over the shouting and gunfire. Others picked up on the police's impending arrival. Someone screamed "It's the popo. Bail out!" Others chimed in, surprised shouts in Japanese and "Shit damn, every man for himself!" sending people into a different kind of frenzy.

"What…? How did they know we were here?" Toris asked. He shook his head. "It's not safe, we don't have a choice. We must leave."

"I tire of hiding," Ivan agreed. His associate frowned and watched Ivan use the storage container to brace himself back to his feet.

Everyone's people scrambled over each other to escape. Bullets burst and there was the occasional car engine turning over, then tires peeling out were overwhelmed by plane engines and helicopter blades whirring to life. Ivan ignored the distractions and sidestepped obstacles to see that the table had been flipped onto its side. Used guns were strewn amongst the assorted copper casings. In the chaos Kiku instructed someone, presumably the pilot, to prepare for emergency takeoff. Alfred walked backwards toward the open door, covering their retreat.

"Alfred!" Ivan called out. "You do _not_ run away from me!"

"Who's running?" Alfred whirled on him at the same time Ivan brought his gun to bear. He let off a quick shot, aiming for the other man's gun, but he miscalculated. Alfred hadn't held back from the start, but this time he'd aimed low – towards Ivan's legs, perhaps aiming for anything that would slow him down. His shot landed next to Ivan's booted foot instead, splintering the cement, and Ivan's grazed Alfred's arm.

Blood sprayed the side of the helicopter. Alfred cried out in frustration as his arm gave out on him. He'd refused to drop his gun, but the larger weapon dangled in his good hand before clattering to the ground in a weakened hold and gripped his upper arm instead. Blood leaked through Alfred's fingers. Alfred stared at the injury in a mixture of disbelief and fury and Ivan looked on in surprise. Ivan lowered his firearm without meaning to.

Alfred surged towards him, looking prepared to retaliate with his bare hands. Kiku caught his shoulder, leaning in close and whispering in his ear… And the way Alfred leaned into him…

Ivan gritted his teeth until they ached. He fully raised his weapon and resumed firing. Kiku guided Alfred into the helicopter, and it took off the ground and ascended through the retractable opening in the ceiling. Ivan didn't stop shooting, but with his limp Alfred was soon too far away to be affected. It clicked empty, but his finger pulled on the trigger anyway.

Shouting brought Ivan's focus to his surroundings. There was smoke, and beyond that stood Toris, the person to call for him. One of their men had hotwired a black Lexus and parked it just outside the hanger. Toris motioned to him from the back seat. With a final look at the retreating helicopter, Ivan approached the vehicle.

A man Ivan didn't recognize tried to stop him, and without a glance he flipped the gun in his hand and used the butt of it to whack them on the back of their neck. Stepping over the fallen body, he reached the car and got in. Their driver zoomed off as soon as he was situated.

They disappeared across a bridge and onto a side road, missing the authorities that swarmed the airport. Ivan slumped against the seat; his anger receded, his disbelief subsided, and exhaustion set in. After the revelation Ivan was just…tired. His eyes slipped closed. Several miles later, coming to a decision, he said, "Pull over."

Toris stopped talking to the driver and turned to him. "I'm sorry?"

"Stop the car," Ivan ordered. The vehicle slowed on the side of the road and Ivan got out. He leaned low enough to see inside. "Go. Recoup with the others."

"What about you?"

"I am going home."

Toris' brows furrowed and he asked, "Are you sure that is wise? It's a long walk, and you don't know what will be waiting for you."

"I need time to think," Ivan said. He did not comment on the state of his house; he knew very well who might be waiting for him there. In fact, he was counting on it.

**Author's Note:**

> In my first draft I had Alfred dropping the gun he was holding and picking up an even bigger caliber gun, and unleashing _that_ on Ivan instead after realizing the man he's been dating is his rival mob boss. And although I ultimately couldn’t work that scene in with all seriousness I wanted everyone to know just how upset Alfred was with his boyfriend and you can bet he was still probably thinking about doing it. (◡‿◡✿)
> 
> Dude is still pissed, though, that Ivan could hide something from him that well, and he's even more pissed at himself for not figuring it out sooner. Ah well, we all know where _this_ goes! And how it will end is coming soon. 
> 
> Check out my [writing blog on Tumblr](http://snaurus.tumblr.com/) for more content!


End file.
